


Random Cartinelli AUs

by Shatterpath



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, F/F, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-09 15:11:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4353803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shatterpath/pseuds/Shatterpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just what the title says. Ficlets that fell out of the author's head and into her hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. camp counselor au

**Author's Note:**

> So, a list of prompts came across my Tumblr dash and I needed some inspiration to keep writing while I struggle with my big Epic.
> 
> Thank you, automatgalpals!

"Girls! For the love of Pete, enough!"

Angry and guilty, the squabbling children stopped, but they still separated into the 'us versus them' lines that had been drawn just two days ago.

"Now, come on you guys, you were getting along just fine a few days ago. Can't we just hug this out?"

Pugnacious and stubborn, the instigators glared at one another and her.

"Can you?"

Oh, from the mouth of babes…

And that was how Angie found herself tromping down the mountain with a duckling string of ten year olds in her wake to go set a good example. At the rugged cabin with a palomino painted beside the door, she took a deep breath and knocked sharply. This was long past due and really, she was faintly ashamed that grade schoolers had been the catalyst. The gawky tweeny that appeared on the other side of the door didn't even give Angie a chance to speak, merely turning and bellowing back into the cabin.

"Miss Peggy! It's for you."

Those soulful brown eyes widened as Peggy took in the spectacle at her doorstep; a clearly uncomfortable Angie and the ring of little girls holding her corralled.

"It's been brought to my attention that I've been a jerk," the New Yorker said bluntly and the crowd gasped and giggled in about equal measure. "Pegs, I'm really sorry for what I said. It was stupid and insensitive and I haven't been able to find the words to say I'm sorry and you know me, I always got words, but not this time and I've been feelin' lousy without you around and feelin' stupid for runnin' my mouth and…"

"Angie, breathe."

This time there were giggles from the whole crowd, two dozen strong not including their embarrassed tenders. Sighing, Peggy only opened the screen enough to slip out both in a attempt to minimize the bugs getting into her cabin and because the ten-year-olds were clustered like iron nails to a magnet. Ruffling a couple heads of hair, the popular Englishwoman smiled at the younger girls she'd been missing during the awkward separation. Then she studied Angie, twitching restlessly as though wanting to flee, her gaze skittering, unable to hold Peggy's.

"You're an idiot Angie, but we all are sometimes."

As expected, the crowd of girls tittered again.

"That doesn't make me love you any less."

That hang-dog look of pure hope was adorable and Peggy unfolded her arms to welcome the hug she knew Angie was dying for. In an instant she was rocked back by Angie and a dozen gleeful little girls doing their best to dogpile them both while the twelve-year-olds cheered from inside.


	2. boarding school au

"What're you lookin' at?"

Startled, the new girl paused, looking up into hard blue eyes. She was pretty like a miniature movie starlet, even if her uniform was disreputable, but Peggy kept her mouth shut. Criticizing this little ball of fury wouldn't earn her any points here, she could see that. Instead she said the first nice thing that she could dredge up out of her rattled mind.

"I like your necklace."

The blue eyes widened, and then narrowed into suspicion, crushing Peggy's hopes of maybe making a friend.

"You talk funny."

Nodding hopelessly, Peggy hung her head and turned away to leave. It was just one more harsh reminder of just how far away she was from home. Sniffling down tears, she hunched into herself and started walking. She would not cry in front of these mean strangers, she wouldn't!

"Ugh," the other girl sighed dramatically and raced over to grab the stranger's arm, recoiling when she whipped around half in terror and half in menace. "Easy, easy, English. This place'll eatcha alive if you get all crybaby over everything. C'mon, I'll show you around."

Cautiously hopeful, the taller girl relaxed a bit. "You will?"

"Yeah. Now, first thing ya gotta know is to loosen up. That accent's gonna get you enough hassle. Loosen the tie and stick with me."


	3. knight/princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chivalry suits her. 
> 
> Love will complete her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Number 3 of the ficlets inspired by automatgalpals and my personal favorite!

"This is a terrible idea," Edwin fretted and Peggy resisted the urge to cuff him alongside the head. It was a familiar state of affairs, particularly the more public the engagement. She was quite aware of why he was nervous and was determined to keep her usual aplomb. No matter that most of the men strutting about despised her for the audacity of her female presence, she was accustomed to ignoring it. There was nothing they could do in these lands as she was legally adopted sister to the ruling emperor and more skilled than any other knight in the Three Kingdoms. The foreigners were not used to being trounced so soundly and a confrontation far uglier than this formal tournament was inevitable.

So, yes, Peggy understood Edwin's nervousness completely.

This tournament had been a strange affair, exhausting for the local population as they tried to figure out these noisy, vulgar visitors from across the sea. Had their allegiance not been necessary to the Three Kingdoms, Peggy herself might have gutted a few for their behaviors. Instead, she would trounce them in a way more chivalrous. 

"Will the Archduchess Margaret Carter and the royal knight Sir Jonathan Thompson proceed to the field of battle."

"Pretentious twit," Edwin muttered of her newest rival as he quickly gathered the last of her kit and rushed over to where the groom held the big, ruddy charger. The stallion had a fancy name, but Peggy preferred to call him Dum-Dum for the stunningly ugly, crooked blaze of dirty white on his wide face. As was the custom, the big warmblood danced and snorted and carried on until Peggy smacked him on that ugly blaze in rough welcome. Feeling every pound of the protective plate molded to her powerful, voluptuous frame, she hauled herself up her horse's side and settled into the high-backed saddle. Dum-Dum was draped in his tournament finery, blood red with the emperor's sigil of the triangle in circle emblazoned on his withers just as it was on Peggy's tunic and helmet.

Edwin fell in beside the armored pair with helmet and lances in hand as they strode towards the doorway to the field. The crowd erupted into anarchy at the appearance of their favorite, a wall of screaming voices to which Peggy waved regally even as her gaze locked onto her opponent. The handsome foreigner might speak of chivalry and fair combat, but she held no trust of him. Holding Dum-Dum firmly in check, she accepted her helm from Edwin, shoving it down over the hood protecting her head from the metal that would grow sun warmed soon enough. As expected, the crowd began their chanting, a discordant cacophony that quickly cleared to the moniker gifted to her by them years ago.

Howard, her adopted brother, had laughed at her dislike of being called the 'Red Wolf', rightly telling her it was a compliment. Once she accepted it, she'd had her helmets styled like the prow of a ship, teeth enameled to the surface for the pleasure of the crowd. While her royal brother might exasperate her endlessly, he knew how to ply a crowd. Even now, he lounged as an indolent feline clearly missing his usual courtesans, delaying the start of the joust until the crowd hit just the right pitch of impatience. Breath loud in the helm, Peggy settled and resettled her grip on her lance, controlled her stallion's fidgeting and watched her opponent do the same from across the field. 

A flash of red fabric waved by the emperor released both stallions, hooves thundering over the hard packed earth.

Thompson drew the first hit, rocking Peggy violently into the support of her high-backed saddle and nearly unseating her. It was a nasty hit, the dulled point of the lance drifting up at the last second to slam into her helm, scraping along the angled face as water would the prow of a ship. It was unexpected and exactly the sort of unchivalrous behavior she should have expected from this man. Cursing to herself, Peggy mentally adjusted to the burn of the hit and reined in Dum-Dum to face back the way he'd come. This time the big red charger was incensed, ears pinned back as he raced down the tilt barrier at his counterpart. Peggy's lance shattering spectacularly against Thompson's shield blasted wood fragments into the other horse's snowy hide, speckling him in blood even as his rider went flying. 

Satisfied, Peggy knew that this wouldn't end there and let Dum-Dum dance about a bit until the grooms collected the white charger and she could climb down from her own mount. The last thing anyone needed was a pair of angry stallions trying to tear each other to pieces with the crowd close enough to be in harm's way. Let the knights do that with at least some scant rules. Tossing aside shield and lance, Peggy drew her sword and sauntered over to where the lesser knight struggled to his feet. 

"Had enough?" she taunted, grinning to herself as his bucket-like helm swung her way, telegraphing his irritation. 

The combatants came together with ringing steel, circling and exchanging swings. Thompson was significantly larger and had a far longer reach, but Peggy was long used to that and besides, she was quicker. That said, she could only entertain the crowd so much as the exhaustion of these long days of tourney and the early blow to the head were wearing her down. 

One more time the foreigner was able to briefly best the champion with a low blow that sent a cursing Peggy sprawling to the grass, quickly rolling to avoid a stab meant to hurt. There was no game here, he was angry and wanted to prove something, again something Peggy was used to. Twisting, she managed to shift her heavy body to one side, his sword sticking into the earth instead of her neck, her foot coming up to kick him in the knee. Screaming, he fell, the fight over. Standing and yanking off her helm, she snarled, "were we in combat and your people's good will not necessary to my liege, I would kill you. Dishonorable cretin."

The crowd would tear down the stands of seating provided them, their excitement was an entity to itself, raising to a fevered pitch as Peggy forced herself to step back from her opponent and raise fist and sword to the roar of sound. While the showmanship did not come naturally to her, it was one more skill learned and perfected. Skull aching from combat and the blazing sun, she scraped back the red hood from her dark hair, braided back tightly and nearly black with sweat. Reversing her hold on the sword as though it were a dagger to be stabbed downward, she moved to the royal pavilion, ignoring the reverent touches of her peoples against the edge of her crimson tunic as she ascended the steps.

She's forgotten that Howard had royal company. The princess that fatuous idiot in the grass was supposed to be protecting instead of showing off. Peggy was never entirely certain how to behave around the soft, royal women of the various courts, for they seemed as foreign as breathing water and she avoided them. But this beauty startled her with frank sea-blue eyes tinged with green and the pale of clean sand, her pretty face appreciative and mildly taken aback. Something about the regard of those eyes stunned Peggy, left her rooted to the spot, the racket of the crowd fading for an endless moment. Then the stranger smiled, an enticing curl of delight that left the bewildered duchess-knight quite flummoxed.

"If you would do me the honor, your Ladyship?" Howard said suddenly, the thread of amusement in his voice quite obvious and Peggy jerked her eyes away from the pretty stranger and sank down to one knee. She looked down where the point of her sword rested in the grooved wood and laid her hands over the pommel. 

"I would be honored, your Highness," she said in a clear, strong voice into the anticipatory hush that fell over the crowd. They all knew this ritual intimately, but never seemed to tire of it. The attractive royal from across the sea was a new twist to the familiar and every eye but Peggy's watched attentively. The knight flinched in surprise when elegant fingers brushed back an errant strand of hair behind her ear before the wreath of intricately braided grapevines settled over the curve of her bare head. Still, she tilted her head up, eyes closed, as was the custom, startled again when a slim finger tilted her chin up more. Instead of a brush of kiss between the brows, the visitor pressed sweet, cool lips to Peggy's, a rush of shocked feeling blasting the knight. Few, if any, would be so bold, particularly with her, and that boldness was as much a thrill as the soft kiss. Bewildered, she leaned after the retreating lips, blinking open blurry eyes to catch the other woman's delighted smile.

"Your champion!"

Despite being utterly dazed, Peggy stood and turned, once more letting the roar of the crowd wash over her. After a moment, the princess appeared at her side, Peggy self-consciously dropping her triumphantly raised arms and smiling shyly at the younger woman's wide grin.

"Would you escort me, Lady Knight?"

Remembering her manners, Peggy quickly sheathed her sword and offered an open hand, marveling at the small fingers resting against the battered leather of the palm of her armored gauntlets.

"It would be my pleasure, your Ladyship."

Together, they descended the steps to the grass, the signal of the tournament drawing to a close. Much later, Howard would tease his sister of heart that she'd been so instantly smitten with the Princess Angela that she'd left him there in the stands with the rabble. Her embarrassment at the teasing and failing to protect her liege and brother from potential harm was quite offset by endless kisses from the new ruler of her heart.


	4. pirate au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Power is a fickle thing.

Glowering balefully at the scruffy band of miscreants that had taken her and a handful of other survivors prisoner, she did her best to steel herself for the worst. Every horrifying tale of what could befall a woman at sea assaulted her memories now, leaving her mouth dry with dread. Then again, there were woman amid this motley crew. Could that be some sort of salvation?

The rabble of noise dropped off suddenly and an authoritative woman's voice rang out.

"All hands accounted for, Mister Sousa?"

"Aye, captain. We lost four, but brought you some presents."

A mean laugh rippled through the crowd and Peggy dared look up as the pirate throng parted to reveal the owner of the rich voice. She was a beauty, but the hard gleam in her eye and the weapons about her person spoke volumes that this was no tender blossom. She was also small of stature and painfully young, moving with a feline grace and a presence three times her size.

"Not much of a haul," she drawled wryly and the assembled pirates laughed again. In a glance, she dismissed the prisoners to be hauled away, but stayed her crew's rough hands by stomping a booted foot onto the chain linking Peggy's wrists. "Not many females in these waters."

Uncharacteristically uncertain, Peggy held her tongue. The brutal battle of the merchant vessel and a hard life gone horribly wrong had worn her down and all she could feel was the loss and the shackles holding her to the deck, humiliated and defeated. The deadly business end of sword entering her field of vision to forcibly tilt her chin up made her swallow and dredge up a glare.

"My business is my own."

The young woman grinned ferally and jerked the sword so that it slapped sharply against the underside of Peggy's chin. "That might have been true until today, English, but you're mine now."


	5. mermaid/sailor

Coughing and spluttering, Angie could barely drag her slight frame away from the relentless tug of the waves, her exhaustion to bone-deep to move more than a few lengths before she collapsed once more, shaking and crying. Gone was her ship, her crew, her home and livelihood. Now she was lost to isolation and the haunting, impossible memory of dark eyes as rich as the good earth she left behind for the sea.


	6. prisoner/guard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my second favorite of these nine and I sorta hope to get this bug back in my head, because this was the best sort of 'by the seat of your pants'.

"C'mon, Copper, what's a girl gotta do to get outta this rat cage?"

Arching a curious brow at the whining cry from the holding cells, Carter waited until Officer Fry turned from the Kaf machine, the older woman jumping at the unexpected company. "Oh, you startled me…"

"Dispatch alerted me that you'd been left with a unruly prisoner."

"Well, perhaps unruly is a bit of a strong word," the older woman hedged, unable to meet the Enforcer's flat, dark gaze. Realizing that she'd overstepped her bounds, Fry made an appeal to the intimidating warrior. "This is a sleepy little hub and that… that miscreant came slipping in here like some manner of interstellar hotrodder! She left hyperspace so close to my equipment that communications have been intermittent all night."

"Hey, lady, c'mon! I gotta pee!"

"And she won't be silent!"

Glancing at the door to the pair of holding cells-- it would be a rare day this small a hub would need even one, much less two-- Carter swung her cold gaze back to the officer. "I will tend to your prisoner. You will explain to my dispatch why I was summoned here."

Without further word, Carter moved on silent feet to the cells, the computer systems alerted to her authority long before she ever stepped onto the hub. Behind the bars of the far cell, a small, huddled figure roused herself from the cot. Bloodshot eyes squinted and the young woman-- Terran if Carter was not mistaken-- slurred, "hey, you aren't the old lady… oh shit."

Raising a wry eyebrow, Carter passed her forearm over the lockplate, her cybernetics keying it instantly. The shock and fear were nothing new; her kind was rarely a good thing for other beings. The young woman shied away from Carter's open hand, diagnostic pads glowing, but never made it very far. She would have fallen off of the cot if not for the Enforcer's jacked reflexes.

"You have been chemically compromised," Carter intoned as her diagnostics read the traces on the woman's skin. "Come."

"Hey! I'm not going anywhere! I don't give a crap if you're a looker, cyborg!"

Sighing, Carter bodily lifted the slim Terran onto unsteady feet. "There is a toilet this way."

"Oh, okay. Did you say chemical? That bastard Jack spiked my air, the fucker. I knew he did! Did I hit anybody? Shit, no wonder the old lady locked me up."

"No, you did not. However, you damaged valuable and expensive communications equipment."

"Fuck."

With that, Carter dropped her into a toilet cubicle and stepped a bit away, knowing Terrans were particular about their privacy. "If you have been compromised illegally, that will be investigated."

"Damn right that'll be investigated! Just 'cause the stupid jerk can't keep his girls happy and they come cryin' to me doesn't mean he can make me crash. Dammit, Jack! I just got out from under that Varius 4 fiasco too…"

The ranting tapered off into surly grumbling, making the Enforcer sigh in exasperation. The soft-bodies made little sense to her, no matter that she had once been the same. That was another lifetime, another her.

"Hey, is my ship okay?" Asked the prisoner, stumbling out of the toilet stall, fumbling with loosened trousers. "Can't believe that wasn't the first thing I asked."

In truth, Carter was a bit surprised as well. Independent pilots were-- by their nature-- obsessed with their vessels as it was their means of making a living.

"An' I need a damn shower. Jack'll have to wait, the jerk."

It was almost enough to crack a smile from the solemn Enforcer. "Officer Fry will know of the status of your vessel and I will need to examine it before we go and speak with this Jack."

A sly, evil grin split the Terran's face and she was really quite attractive. "Oh, I can't wait to introduce ya, good-lookin'."


	7. pizza delivery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As inspired by ayrki's Tales of Nerf Gun Terror.

Really, the humiliation of such a plebian job rankled Peggy, but what could she do? College in the States had proven to be so much more expensive than she could have imagined and she could only soak so much from her relatives here. Frat-Sor Row was as busy as always, what with all the fraternity and sorority houses clustered around Strategic Park. Few locals or students called the streets by their actual names, but even the new kid from England had quickly figured out what Frat-Sor Row meant. After only a week, she had half their Greek designations memorized, though this one was new to her. Someone should really tell the girls of Gamma Rho Iota that the 1940s green and pink motif was just plain ugly. Oh well, it wasn't as though she cared, right?

Parking with dubious legality, Peggy climbed out of the battered old Toyota and stretched in the fading sunshine before popping the boot to gather up the stack of still-hot pizzas from the warmer unit. There was a racket of loud music and yelling voices carrying through the front door and Peggy sighed with hope that her knock would actually be heard. By the third pounding at the old wood, she was getting annoyed. Someone crashed heavily against the other side of the door, making her jump, and the thing was suddenly yanked open to reveal a slim young woman with a most engaging grin. In her hands was an absurdly colored plastic rifle that looked to belong in some children's show, which she levered at the startled Peggy.

"Hey good-lookin', bang!"

A foam dart winged off of her shoulder and the gaggle of sorority girls laughed uproariously. 

"Bring in the booty and we'll get your swag."

Not even bothering to try and decipher the bulk of the sentence, Peggy followed the smaller girl, jumping a bit when another dart bounced off of her head.

"Lay off She Who Bears Pizza, Gloria, or starve!"

In a flurry of female bodies in all shapes and colors, Peggy was divested of her burden and the still-armed girl who'd answered the door brought over a wad of honest paper money. "Shame you're on the clock, good-lookin', those busy eyes say you'd be some good fun with a Nerf gun."

Peggy felt as though she would never get used to these wild, unpredictable, simply mad Americans and burst out laughing. "Perhaps I'll take you up on the offer, you assassin."

"Bring it!"


	8. carnival date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A blind actually gone right?

"Oh Howard, must I?"

Neither of the prep school graduates were certain exactly how they had become such fast friends, but it went back well into the years of pigtails and short pants, all the way through to today and graduation from university, both of them with honors. The carnival Howard had rented with his ridiculous family fortune was so absolutely him.

"Now Pegs, come on. You haven't even met her!"

"Howard, how could any of your relations be any better than your extremely dubious charms?"

"Flattery will get you nowhere and besides, you promised."

Sighing with exasperation, Peggy rolled her eyes but followed her friend to the sprawling pavilion that was focus of the gathering of family for the momentous occasion. The riot of voices that greeted the huge clan's golden boy made her cringe and contemplate making a quick, rude escape, promise or no promise.

And said promise didn't get any better as the cluster of cousins were apparently entirely a gaggle of well-dressed children and gawky adolescents. It would be in line with Howard's perverse sense of humor to get her to promise to take out a cousin only to have the girl be half her age. She was sidling towards the exit, eyeing it longingly, when a hand touched her arm, bringing her around. There stood a sweetly gorgeous woman close to her age, hazel-blue gaze curious and warm.

"Are you Peggy?"

She found herself at a loss for words, desperately hoping that this looker was the cousin Howard had foisted off on her. Even if it meant thanking the wanker. The woman's smile had warmed past a bit tentative and sweet to downright sunny as Peggy continued to stare in bamboozled fascination. A nearby child's giggle finally snapped her out of it, a hand whipping fast enough to nearly smack the stranger in the chest. Not that Peggy was ogling…

"Yes. Yes, I'm Peggy. Pleased to meet you, ma'am."

Now the stranger was delighted, the tip of her tongue just showing between straight rows of white teeth. "Stand down, soldier."

The giggling increased and multiplied, making Peggy wilt, but the lovely woman grabbed the offered hand in mid-air, cradling it in hers.

"Angie Martinelli. Pleased to meet you too. So you're my blind date, huh? I gotta say, I might just have to forgive Howie that 'jumping off the roof' incident for this one."

Smitten and now charmed, Peggy could only watch helplessly as the firecracker tucked their now linked arms to her ribs and began dragging her from the crowded tent, completely ignoring her amused relations.

"Jumping off the roof?" Peggy hedged, still feeling off-kilter, but wanting to hear this Angie speak again. Gesturing expansively with her free hand, the sea-blue eyes echoed the sly smile as she regarded her quiet blind date.

"Oh yes, see I was four and he dared me. Dared me! The nerve. I wasn't about to let any cousin of mine get away with that, especially since he was a stinky six year old. So I pushed him off and dove after, but I didn't have a good grip on the parachute, which was a bedsheet of course…"

The smile slowly blooming over Peggy's serious face was like a sunrise, heralding in a new era, brought on by the warmth in her soul from this burgeoning new connection to a delightful stranger.


	9. Laundry Swap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angie's in for a surprise when she takes a good look at the clothing she brought up from her apartment building's laundry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops! I didn't realize I never posted this chapter!

"Well, whoever she is, she's got your style at its scuzzy Sunday best," Sarah cackled as Angie stared in complete confusion at the jumble of clean laundry on her bed. Pulling out a pair of very long, and very threadbare grey sweats, she held them up and gave her amused roomie the eyebrow.

"There is no woman in this building who would wear these unless she's Shehulk. The version that transforms."

Sarah laughed for real now, lounging against the bedroom door. "Oh Angie, you adorable lesbian. Those are classic ex-boyfriend sweats. As related to the ex-boyfriend jeans. Observe. There are a second set of faded patches above the original knees, the back of the calf is nearly worn through-- with about a size eight if I'm not mistaken-- and the drawstring is barely holding together. That is some poor woman's favorite slumming sweats. Old as hell too, and well-cared for. I revise my initial statement; those are Lost Love sweats. I hope you can find her, hon."

Curious now, Angie mumbled a goodbye as her roommate left, and dumped out the basket of unknown clothing. There were a half-dozen bits of men's clothing from a guy tall and broad shouldered, but well broken in to a woman's body. Boxers, two tees and a couple long sleeved shirts, worn buttery soft. With them were some normal women's sweats and a single pair of worn jeans, workout shirts, some plain underwear and a sportsbra for someone spectacularly well-endowed. Everything was in mostly darks and neutrals, with flashes of faded red here and there. The materials were expensive and worn out with use and washings. 

Hmmm….

Wracking her brain for memories from endless days of observing the people around her, Angie focused on her building mates. A woman missing her guy for some reason, who wore his clothes to rags. Classy fabrics, downplayed colors, the load of fabric softened with use…

It clicked like a light switch being thrown and Angie wanted to yell for Sarah to come back so that she could whine and cry in denial. Of COURSE the laundry had to belong to the Hot Englishwoman on the third floor. Seriously, the universe hated her and she would forever be making a fool of herself in front of women she was attracted to. That the men's clothing screamed 'straight' was typical and even if the hottie were bi, Angie couldn't be lucky enough to be more than a good neighbor. Sigh…

So with her memories firm about sad but alert brown eyes large in a chiseled, beautiful face, and a voluptuous frame wrapped in stolid business attire, Angie sighed dramatically and began shoveling the misplaced clothing back into her basket. 

There was no point putting off hauling her butt up the stairs and knocking on 3E, the unit number that matched Hot Englishwoman's mailbox. Enough time passed that she was getting uncomfortable, but she was sure that was music from inside… and maybe footsteps..

Angie jumped when the door was yanked open, those big, soulful brown eyes skittering over her face and down to the basket where they lit up in teary, overwhelming relief. Whatever doubts Angie might have had in her people-watching skills, she was bang on this time.

"Oh, thank god…"

"Hey, I'm really sorry, but I grabbed your stuff by mistake. Nights have me screwed up and the colors are similar."

Nodding, Hot Englishwoman reached out to grab the faded blue long-sleeved shirt and brought it to her face in a sort of hug. Feeling helpless but as curious as she always was, Angie didn't bolt, but softened her nervous babbling voice.

"Hey, you okay?"

"I'm sorry," the woman whispered thickly and revealed her teary face, but remained clinging to the fabric. "I… I lost my husband just over a year ago and these pieces comfort me. Thank you so much for returning them, I've been frantic. How did you know they were mine?"

Pleased and uncomfortable, Angie smiled. "I'm an actress and love people watching. You caught my eye."

Those piercing dark eyes sharpened, the dark head tilting in concentration. It was bizarrely endearing. "You're the singer, down on one, near the stairwell."

Blushing red, Angie would have rubbed the back of her neck in embarrassment had her hands not been full, and had to settle for squirming like a four year old in church. "Oh god, have I been bugging you? I'm sorry!"

"Not at all, you have a lovely voice. Did you know the pigeons coo along with you?"

Now Angie was laughing, delighted with the smile curving the beautiful stranger's mouth.

"Here, let me empty this basket out and you can be on your way. Come in."

"Pigeons," Angie scoffed in pleased amusement, earning a throaty chuckle.

"It’s true!"

Following the woman, Angie figured she was charming enough to befriend, even if there could be nothing more.

"Well better than old Mrs. Sanchez tryin' to harmonize with me again, I suppose."

The bedroom was plainly and elegantly furnished with dark woods and lush neutral fabrics like the cover of a magazine, but with some comforting clutter. 

"An actress you say?"

"Yeah, that's why I left Brooklyn and came uptown."

The Englishwoman scooped out the tangle of clothes, firing a wry eyebrow at her skivvies in the mess and Angie laughed. When she rattled off her assembly of clues, that full mouth became a full-fledged toothy smile.

"You've good observational skills. Is acting full-time for you yet? Or does something else make you croon in the early hours?"

"Hilarious, English. It can be full-time enough to get some money in the bank, but it's the period-themed diner over on 78th that make me croon."

"Hmm, I work near there. Perhaps I'll have to stop in there and say hello. And my name is Peggy. Peggy Carter."

A name at last and it gave Angie a real thrill. Shaking the offered hand, she grinned, but tried to hold back the flirtatious edge. With mixed success. "Angie Martinelli and you're stuck with the nickname now. I always nickname people I like and Hot Englishwoman doesn't work… anymore…"

So much for behaving herself and Angie hung the emptied basket at her side so that she could rub her forehead with her freed hand. And it was that which earned her a full-fledged laugh, making the lonely widow shake with merriment. "You are a delight, Angie Martinelli, thank you."

Well, there were far worse ways to make a friend…


End file.
